


Gabriel's Unfortunate Mistake

by JackHawksmoor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Light BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:54:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackHawksmoor/pseuds/JackHawksmoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>an answer to a prompt: Gabriel decides to hire a prostitute for his virgin brother Castiel as a joke, but instead accidentally hires Dean, a professional Dom. The moment Dean first lays a hand on him, Castiel knows he is lost. Dean/Castiel AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gabriel's Unfortunate Mistake

“Come out with me. I’m serious. I’ll buy you someone if I have to.”  
  
Castiel shuffled his papers slightly, curling his body in toward his laptop and affecting a serious, businesslike expression. As one of his many continuing efforts to ignore his brother, even Castiel had to admit it was fairly weak.  
  
Gabriel draped himself over the table, lounging across his papers and forcing Castiel to shift his laptop several inches to the right or risk it getting crushed. Castiel shut his eyes briefly, let out a breath through his nose, and shot a glare at his brother.  
  
“I have,” he patiently explained, “A lot of work to do. Maybe you could go bother Anna?”  
  
“You haven’t even been listening to me, have you.” Gabriel sipped his ridiculous whipped coffee, risking spills.

Castiel lunged for his dishtowels. “If I say no, will you leave?” He did his best to coffee-proof the paper in Gabriel’s immediate vicinity with towels, but this only seemed to outrage his brother further.  
  
“Jesus, Castiel, you’re proving my point. I’ve never seen you get this wound tight. Calling you my OCD brother was supposed to be a joke.” Gabriel swatted at the towels in disgust, his coffee teetering over the papers dangerously.  
  
The work was due in tomorrow and Zachariah would be furious if Castiel was late with it-  
  
Castiel let out a little abortive yelp and covered his papers with his hands. It was fairly pathetic-sounding even to his own ears.  
  
Gabriel stared at him silently for a long moment, until Castiel’s cheeks started to burn. Then, deliberately, Gabriel leaned over and set his ridiculous caramel whipped offense-to-the-word-coffee on Castiel’s kitchen counter, far out of the way of his papers.  
  
Castiel realized he was actually hunched over the table like he was defending it from something, and started to feel a little silly.  
  
“You know,” Gabriel said softly, and Castiel realized with a chill from looking at his expression that everything had gone catastrophically wrong. Gabriel had shifted from teasing and now he was _plotting something._  “Anna and I were really happy about this job. We thought it would be good for you, that it would help you get your mind off that asshole.”  
  
Reflexively, as always, Castiel flinched slightly. “It is,” he said, defensively. “It has.”  
  
Gabriel was looking at him in a way that was making him uncomfortable. “Oh yeah? Come out with me tonight. You’ve been in that white tower way too long with just your hand for company. Let me introduce you to someone, get you loosened up.”  
  
It was a tribute to Gabriel’s persistence that Castiel actually considered it for a moment. Then he froze, thinking of the report he needed to give tomorrow, how much work he still needed to do. How disappointed in him Zachariah would be. He looked up and opened his mouth, but was surprised at the the look on Gabriel’s face.  
  
Triumph. And yet simultaneously unhappy. As though Castiel had let him down somehow.  
  
“Gabriel?” Castiel asked, straightening. Concerned now.  
  
“You used to get that look on your face when we tried to get you away from your sweet boyfriend Uriel, at the end.” Gabriel smiled, and it was awful.  
  
Castiel tried not to flinch, and wasn’t sure if he managed it. “We weren’t-” he sputtered, “we were just friends,” he insisted, for the fiftieth time.  
  
Gabriel made a scoffing sound and slashed at the air dismissively with his hand. “Yes, jesus, I know, you’re as virgin as new fallen snow, I think that’s the problem, little brother. But sex does not a relationship make, trust me.”  
  
Castiel shook his head firmly. “We weren’t together, I told you. I just liked him.”  
  
Gabriel stared at him. “You liked him. He almost killed you. If Anna hadn’t-”  
  
“I know,” Castiel replied, maybe sharper than he should have. He rubbed at his forehead, feeling a headache building. “Not now. I don’t like him now, all right? But he was...” Castiel looked away, and thought briefly about long talks, and being made to feel like he was...good. Like he was a good person. Like he pleased someone. The thought felt strange and personal. “He was funny,” Castiel finished lamely, feeling helpless.  
  
Gabriel’s eyebrows were up high. “Right.”  
  
“And I like this job. I need this job to pay my bills, Gabriel. And I have a huge project due tomorrow. So I’m sorry if I’m not at my best right now.”  
  
“No,” Gabriel said, almost before he’d finished. “You had a big project before this one. You had a big project before that one. Ten guesses tomorrow you’ll come home with another one.”  
  
Castiel blinked at him. He had to admit he was surprised Gabriel had noticed his workload.  
  
“I like what I’m doing.”  
  
“Oh, I know,” Gabriel said, and made it sound like the most suggestive, lewd thing in the world.  
  
Castiel frowned at him.  
  
“I’m starting to wonder if this job is just another unhealthy relationship for your collection, Cas,” Gabriel said. “I mean we all got the grand starter pack with dad but you seem to be-”  
  
“Don’t talk about father like that,” Castiel said, almost on reflex.  
  
Gabriel breathed out, and it was almost like Castiel had disappointed him again. Castiel curled his hands into fists under the table. Then Castiel watched Gabriel relax his shoulders deliberately, shake his head as if he was arguing internally over something.  
  
“Sometimes,” Gabriel said with care, and Castiel realized that Gabriel had been trying to get through to him about something, had been trying and trying and this was Castiel watching his brother pull himself up for another go at it which meant that Gabriel was really _worried_ , “people can accidentally make things mean more than they should. But usually only until they get the real thing. Like a kid that thinks a stuffed lion is real until they go to the zoo, you get what I mean?”  
  
Castiel stared at him with his mouth open. “No,” he said honestly. “That’s maybe the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard come out of your mouth, and that’s saying something.”  
  
Gabriel half-snarled in frustration, but Castiel held up a calming hand in peace.  
  
“However, if it will get you out of my house tonight,” Castiel took a deep breath and gripped the edge of the table, “you can do whatever you want. I’ll make the time, I’ll go along with it.”  
  
Gabriel lit up like somebody had shot off fireworks inside him. He jumped to his feet and pointed at Castiel. “Anything,” he repeated gleefully.  
  
Castiel slumped. “Please, nothing too hideously humiliating.”  
  
Gabriel scoffed at him. “Please. If there’s one thing I can do properly it’s this.” He waved at Castiel’s laptop. “Indulge in your drudgery one last night, baby brother, because tomorrow...” he snapped both fingers in a dramatic fashion, waggling his eyebrows for effect. Even Castiel had to smile a little.  
  
Gabriel winked at him. “See you then,” he said, and left.  
  
\------------------------------------  
  
It was possibly a little bit annoying, how close to completely accurate Gabriel was about how Castiel’s work went the next day. He had an early morning meeting, and then a working lunch with Hester, where she started discussing a new project they had been assigned to work on together that he hadn’t even been told about yet. Then he came back to his office, ready to give his big report, and found that Raphael had come in while he was gone and taken everything he’d done, leaving a dry memo that his verbal report wasn’t necessary. The facts he’d gathered were adequate on their own, and that a report on his preliminary findings for his new project would be expected by the end of the day.  
  
Zachariah didn’t get around to formally telling him what he was doing until 3pm. Castiel worked with Hester right through until almost nine. She was obviously furious she’d gotten stuck with something completely impossible on a Friday night. They didn’t even stop for dinner.  
  
So Castiel didn’t think about Gabriel until he was walking up the stairs to his apartment, exhausted and miserable. It only made him feel worse when he quickly checked his phone and realized he’d missed a text from Gabriel and was at least twenty minutes late to meet him at Castiel’s apartment. The day had been awful, and this was just a cap on it. Adequate, Raphael had said. Cas let people down. He let them down, he disappointed them, he was worthless to them, and that meant they would all-  
  
Castiel thought briefly of his father, and wondered if, wherever the man was, if he ever even thought to wonder about any of the family he had abandoned.  
  
Gabriel would have surely left by now. Castiel was going to go up to his apartment, and open a bottle of tequila and pull a blanket over his head. He didn’t have to work until Monday. He had loads to do but at least he wouldn’t have to look presentable for a couple of days.  
  
“Think I have limes,” Castiel muttered to himself, and stopped. There was a man in a casual suit standing outside his door. He had a small bag. The man heard him, and turned. Castiel almost dropped his keys. He was, without a doubt, one of the most physically attractive humans Castiel had ever seen in his life.  
  
The man looked Castiel up and down deliberately, once, then nodded to himself.  
  
“You’re late,” the man said.  
  
 _Good god Gabriel hired a prostitute._  
  
Castiel dropped his keys. “Um,” Castiel said, fumbling for them. “Ah.”  
  
The man narrowed his eyes. _Green. Jesus._  
  
“I’m not accustomed to being kept waiting,” he said firmly. Businesslike.  
  
Castiel looked wildly down the hall, trying not to panic. There was nobody there to see. “Right,” he said, his voice suddenly unnaturally high. He fumbled for the door. Anything to get them out of sight. He shut the door behind them both with a sigh of relief, dropping his briefcase and sagging a little.  
  
He was going to kill Gabriel.  
  
“Look,” he said weakly, “I think there’s been some mistake-”  
  
“Castiel Novak,” the man said sharply, turning. He walked right up into Castiel’s face, until he was blowing his next word practically into Castiel’s mouth. “Cas,” he said, with a slight smile, as if by knowing the childhood nickname he’d been given a great secret.  
  
Cas gaped at him, momentarily thrown.  
  
The man’s smile widened. It was unfairly stunning.  
  
“Then there’s been no mistake,” he said confidently. He turned and set his bag down on Castiel’s couch. It wasn’t very big. Like an overnight bag. “Call me Dean, for the duration.”  
  
“Are you,” Castiel’s voice cracked and he had to stop and clear his throat, “are you planning on staying?”  
  
The man straightened and gave him a dry, amused once-over. “You should be so lucky. You’re already on my shit list.” His voice dropped, got slightly dangerous-sounding. He was working on his tie. “You were late. You’re going to pay for that.”  Dean slipped the tie from around his neck, hefting it in one hand as if it was a dangerous weapon. The dark expression on Dean’s face made Cas feel abruptly stupid.  
  
Castiel blinked at him, his brain fumbling desperately to catch up. Was he really going to do this? He had a sudden, humiliating thought.  
  
“But I don’t have any cash,” he mumbled, his hands going to his suit pockets and patting them, as if by some miracle he could turn back time and have stopped at the ATM before coming home.  
  
Dean’s expression abruptly turned thunderous. “Do I look like a prostitute?” he demanded, and shoved Castiel back against the door.  
  
Castiel flailed for a moment, honestly stunned, and Dean pinned him in place with a forearm across his collarbone.  
  
“Do I?” Dean demanded.  
  
Shocked and confused because until a moment before his outburst that had been exactly what Castiel had thought, he gaped at Dean silently.  
  
Dean’s expression tightened, and he put more pressure against Castiel’s collarbone. It started to hurt, a little. Castiel made a quick effort to remember the question.  
  
This close Dean was even more striking. He was taller than Castiel was, bigger. Maybe stronger. And he was being rough. This should terrify Castiel, not excite him. He felt suddenly a little sick with himself.  
  
“No,” he said. He couldn’t make it sound convincing. There was a crazy person in his apartment. Gabriel hired a crazy person and now Castiel was going to be murdered and-  
  
Dean let up. He stepped back and straightened Castiel’s tie, smoothing out the collar, petting it. He looked...very happy with him.  
  
Castiel didn’t know what was going on.  
  
And then Dean leaned in close to Castiel’s ear, and whispered, “Good boy.”  
  
Cas was rooted to the spot. He had frozen solid. But he had let slip something, some awful noise from inside, and he suddenly wanted to slap Dean in the face, slap him and run away...  
  
Then Dean pulled back, and there was this look on his face. So much sympathy. Like he knew. Like he’d known from the moment Dean had set eyes on Castiel. The secret, the worst secret, he knew and he didn’t care and Cas made another awful sound. He thought, suddenly, that he might actually start crying.  
  
Dean grabbed him by the throat. The world went silent.  
  
“Take off your suit. And the shirt. Keep the tie.” Dean’s voice was firm, but not unkind. His face was gently encouraging. As if they were old friends.  
  
Castiel swallowed against the fingers on his throat. It wasn’t a tight grip, he could still breathe easily. But it felt...something about it felt...Dean tilted his hand, forcing Castiel to stretch his neck a little and tilt his head back against the door. Castiel shut his eyes, feeling suddenly, insanely, as though he were safe. He lifted a hand and touched his shirt front. Dean’s hand remained a solid, reassuring weight against his neck. Not squeezing, just there.  
  
He could...he could do anything...and Castiel wouldn’t be able to...  
  
Castiel started to fumble with the buttons of his shirt.  
  
His coat fell on the floor. Dean’s thumb stroked Castiel’s skin, just where his jaw met his neck. The rest of Dean’s hand did not move.  
  
Castiel shed his dress shirt and stood there, eyes shut. He shivered, once. Though he was still wearing pants, he felt very bare. He could feel himself getting an erection and wasn’t entirely certain how to feel about it. Confusion and shame were fighting it out in his head.  
  
Dean leaned in close. Castiel could feel Dean’s breath against his collarbone and jerked slightly. Dean slid his hand away from Castiel’s throat and tugged at the tie Castiel had left hanging around his neck.  
  
Curious, Castiel looked down. With a few tugs Dean had the tie undone, and he pulled it from around Castiel’s neck, looking pleased.  
  
“Dean,” Castiel began hesitantly, but was stopped by a finger against his lips.  
  
“I think given your mouth, no talking,” Dean said. Cas actually opened his mouth to question that, but Dean chose that moment to step in close. His whole body pressed up against Castiel’s, one long line of heat. The sudden shock of Castiel’s erection pushed up firmly against a warm thigh completely whited out Castiel’s brain.  
  
“You’re doing so well,” Dean said into his ear, and stepped back. Cas may have actually whimpered.  
  
Dean looked dark and satisfied by the sound. The expression almost caused Castiel to miss what Dean was doing with the ties Dean now had in his hands. He was running them through his fingers, rubbing the material as if testing for something. Then he gave both ties a sharp tug. First one, then the other. The motion seemed significant, though Castiel didn’t know what it meant.  
  
“Hold out your wrists,” Dean said.  
  
Castiel opened his mouth, a question already there...and then shut it. _No talking._  
  
Dean smiled at him, a warm flash of acknowledgement and amusement. Like they had shared a secret. Like Dean could see what he was thinking.  
  
 _I see what you did there. Good job._  
  
Cas took a shaky breath and held out his hands. Dean reached out with one hand and grasped him around the left wrist, squeezing a little. Castiel looked up. Dean lifted his chin a little, his expression almost challenging, and put more pressure on Castiel’s wrist.  
  
It didn’t hurt. Not really. Castiel almost wished...he didn’t want to think about what he wished. He had never been this aroused in front of another person before. He didn’t want to think about that, either, so he stood there with his arms out, both hands loose and pliant, and waited.  
  
Dean gave him a look like he knew exactly what was going on in Castiel’s head. Then he released his grip on Castiel’s wrist, rubbing his fingers over the skin lightly before looping the tie over it. Dean attached one strip of silky cloth to each arm. Dean knotted the cloth up snug against his skin, and then tested it, running his thumb under the edge of it, giving it a slight pull from underneath as if testing how much give there was.  
  
Then, Dean let his hands slide down to the ends of the ties hanging from Castiel’s wrists, caught hold of them, and gave them a sharp yank.  
  
“Follow me,” Dean said, and started to drag Castiel through his own apartment.  
  
Castiel stumbled the first few steps, caught off guard, but he caught up quickly enough. His apartment wasn’t that big. Castiel supposed he should have expected it, but he was surprised when Dean pulled him into his bedroom.  
  
He stared at his own bed with something like panic crawling up his throat. Would they-and would Dean be able to tell how little Cas knew-how much had Dean been told?  
  
What would sex with this sort of man be like?  
  
If Dean noted Castiel’s growing nervousness, he ignored it, pausing and looking at Castiel’s bed much more casually. He even tilted his head and ‘hmmed’ to himself a bit, like he wanted to get a better look at Castiel’s footboard, as if he was sizing it up for something. He pulled Castiel over to it and then actually ducked down, poking at something Castiel couldn’t see.  
  
“Yep,” Dean said, satisfied by what he’d found. He stood up and put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Kneel down right here.”  
  
Castiel recoiled a little, but was stopped by the ties on his wrists. That seemed wrong. That seemed like too much. Dean looked a little surprised, but he didn’t push him, or force him down.  
  
Castiel wondered with a sinking feeling if this meant that this was the end. If Dean was going to stop now, and leave as suddenly as he’d shown up. Something desperate and miserable clamped onto him tightly. He wondered if he was going to be sick.  
  
Dean adjusted his hand on Castiel’s shoulder and moved in close. His expression completely confused Castiel. He looked concerned but encouraging. Almost like he was waiting for something. After a moment, when Castiel remained silent, Dean sighed, and shook his head.  
From the expression Dean gave him, Castiel felt oddly like a child who didn’t know when to quit while he was ahead.  
  
It didn’t make sense, but Dean didn’t give him time to think about it.  
  
“Come on, Cas,” he said, leaning down so that their foreheads almost touched. Dean had freckles on his nose. “Don’t disappoint me now,” Dean continued.  
  
Castiel blinked several times rapidly, aware he’d curled both of his hands into fists. Slowly, keeping his eyes on Dean’s, he lowered himself to his knees.  
  
Dean smiled at him. “Look at you,” he said warmly. Then Dean lifted his hand and ran his fingers through Castiel’s hair.  
  
Castiel made a low sound in the back of his throat, his jaw going slack. Dean’s fingers tightened just briefly in the hair at the back of Castiel’s head and Cas stopped breathing, his eyes going wide.  
  
He’d never tried to make himself come without touching himself, but for a wild second Cas was certain he could manage it.  
  
But then Dean had let go of him and was stepping behind him. Castiel tried to turn and look and got a firm hand in the center of his back for the effort, pushing him back in place.  
  
“Stay right there,” Dean said, his voice sharp. Castiel relented, settling back down onto his heels. Dean was doing something with the tie ends and the footboard of his bed; Castiel could feel the movement in the fabric, but he couldn’t see. The ties abruptly pulled tight. Castiel’s arms were yanked up, behind his back.  
  
He pulled immediately, he couldn’t move them.  
  
Before it could alarm him, before Castiel could start to feel ashamed of himself because this was starting to feel dangerous and alarm was never quite the word for what that did to Cas, Dean distracted him. He came around into Castiel’s view and shrugged out of his coat, revealing the bright white dress shirt underneath. Dean threw the coat casually on the chair by Castiel’s dresser.  
  
Then, looking unnervingly serious and far too attractive, Dean unbuttoned his cuffs and started to roll up his shirtsleeves. He had tanned forearms.  
  
Castiel’s mind skittered off somewhere dangerously close to hysteria. He was helpless like this. What was Dean planning? Dean could do anything, anything he wanted-  
  
Dean turned and walked out the door. He didn’t shut it completely behind him.  
  
Castiel gaped at the door for a moment, shocked. He opened his mouth to call out and stopped. He wasn’t supposed to talk but...was that it? Were they done? He stopped and listened, but his apartment was quiet. He pulled at his wrists. They were tied tight.  
  
Would Dean leave him like this and just go? Had he done something wrong? Castiel had another thought, much colder, much worse. What if this was some awful practical joke? He felt a trickle of real panic. Gabriel, setting it up, thinking his little brother would be so embarrassed and would send Gabriel’s little ‘gift’ away. But Castiel didn’t send Dean away. Dean had left him. And he would be stuck here, and then when Gabriel came tomorrow to laugh he would find Castiel like this, and then he would _know_.  
  
Castiel pulled again at his arms, hard this time, like he meant it. The fabric was biting into his wrists and he started to twist them, kicking back at the bedpost closest, thinking he could plant a foot there and really put his back in it if he had to-  
  
His bedroom door moved. Castiel froze. It opened a little further than it had been, showing Dean standing there just outside, watching. He’d been watching the whole time.  
  
Cas inhaled sharply. His arousal, which had been flagging, roared back to life. It was confusing-everything about this was confusing, but he was just so relieved that he almost didn’t notice that the room had gotten blurry. He choked out a breath and blinked furiously, appalled at the thought that he might actually cry over this.  
  
Dean was back in the room, walking toward Castiel like he was in a hurry. “All right, that’s it.” He knelt down in front of Castiel and leaned forward. For a split second Castiel was certain Dean was going to kiss him and something tried to beat its way out of his chest, swelling huge and almost desperate. Whatever else had happened, Castiel realized he wanted it, wanted that from Dean. He was sure Dean saw it on his face. He was looking right in Castiel’s eyes.  
  
But then Dean turned his head to one side and grabbed something behind Castiel. A moment later Castiel’s hands fell free of the bed. Simple. He hadn’t even looked.  
  
Castiel started to feel foolish. Dean pulled at the fabric close to his wrists with practiced ease, and the knots fell apart like magic. Dean turned his wrists over, frowning at them, at the reddened skin where Castiel had pulled.  
  
Dean saw Castiel watching him and frowned at him instead. “You can talk. That’s the scene, we’re done.”  
  
Castiel stiffened. “Done,” he repeated, hating how upset he sounded. “But you...I...why? Didn’t I...” Castiel looked around at his bedroom miserably. “I’ll never get...” Castiel clamped his mouth shut before he could embarrass himself any more. He’d never get to have this again.  
  
“Jesus,” Dean said under his breath. “No sense at all. We’re done for the night, Cas. Relax.”  
  
Castiel stilled. “Oh,” he said awkwardly. He sniffed a little.  
  
Dean looked down at him with a strange look of affection on his face. It seemed wrong for what Dean had just done with him. Distant? It was strange.  
  
“I wouldn’t have left you, you know,” Dean said seriously.  
  
Castiel frowned at him for a moment. Then he saw what Dean meant and felt even more foolish. “Yes,” Castiel agreed, sounding small. He glanced at his chair again and silently cursed himself. “Your jacket.”  
  
Dean leaned back a little and gave him the oddest look. As if he was telling Dean awful secrets.  
  
He stood up and offered Castiel a hand. “Come on, on the bed. You probably wrenched your shoulders, let me take a look at you.”  
  
Castiel let Dean lead him to the bed, let Dean push him down face-first into his blankets. Castiel was almost sure now that they wouldn’t be having sex, but he didn’t understand why. He didn’t understand what was wrong.  
  
Maybe because he’d said yes to...the other thing. Maybe Dean didn’t want to.  
  
Then Dean did the most confusing thing he’d done yet. He pressed Castiel’s erection into the bed with the weight of his body, and then he started to work on Castiel’s shoulders. He wasn’t precisely gentle about it, but he was kind. Dean started kneading and working at Castiel’s sore muscles as if he found them to be personally offensive. As if he really cared that Castiel felt good. After everything that had gone on before it was more than overwhelming.  
  
Castiel shut his eyes and pushed his face against the mattress. Something about that seemed to bother Dean, because if anything he became even more careful, stroking his hands over Castiel’s skin as if he was something fragile.  
  
“That was intense for you, I could see that,” Dean said to him. “That’s fine, that’s why I kept things short. But I need you to talk to me about it, if you can.”  
  
Dean kept talking to him in a soft, encouraging voice. Telling him he didn’t have to do anything, but that it would help. Telling him how well he’d done.  
  
Cas made a soft, wrecked sound and pushed his hips into the mattress. Dean hadn’t left. He hadn’t left he’d been there all along and now he was acting like...like...  
  
He felt Dean go still on his back. He’d felt what Castiel was doing.  
  
“You’ve got me breaking rules left and right, don’t you,” Dean sounded amused. When his voice came next it was close to Castiel’s ear. “If you can get off like this I can pretend I didn’t see squat.”  
  
That was confusing, and maybe a little disappointing, but then Dean curled his fingers through the hair on the back of Castiel’s head and tugged on it lightly.  
  
Castiel cursed in amazement and thrust forward. It was almost, almost enough. He tried again, fisting his hands in the bedcovers out of frustration.  
  
Dean was warm and close by and it was almost-  
  
Casually, Dean slipped his hand underneath Castiel’s chin and very gently grasped his throat.  
  
Castiel came like he’d been punched. He gasped into the bed, trying to smother the small, shocked sounds he was making in the blankets. He realized quickly that he couldn’t breathe like that and pushed himself over with a groan, rolling himself onto his back and just accepting whatever embarrassment he would inevitably bring on himself. He just felt too good to care all of a sudden.  
  
Dean lifted himself away to let Castiel move, shifting aside. But for just a moment, as Castiel was lying there breathless and stunned, he felt Dean’s hand lingering lightly on his neck. Stroking from Castiel’s collarbone up until his fingers were resting just underneath Castiel’s jaw. It was almost a caress. It only lasted for a second or two.  
  
Castiel looked up and saw the expression on Dean’s face.  
  
 _Good job._  
  
Cas let out a soft breath of sound. “Who are you?” he asked, shaken right down to the roots.  
  
Dean gave him a wry smile. “I told you. I’m Dean.” He sighed a little, shaking his head. “And you are gonna get me fired, buddy.”  
  
Castiel pushed himself up on his elbows, even though he felt like, after hearing Dean’s words, that a part of him was curling up very tightly. “Then you are a prostitute,” Castiel said, hating the disbelief in his own voice. “I thought maybe after what you said, that you weren’t. Why did you...do it that way?” His voice wavered a little. “How did you know? I never told anyone. I never told anyone about it. How did you know to do that to me?”  
  
Dean’s face had clamped shut on the word ‘prostitute’, but as Castiel continued to talk his expression started to shift. At first Dean just seemed confused, but then he started to look spooked. Space suddenly opened up between them on the bed.  
  
“Castiel,” Dean said slowly, as if he was dreading the answer, “Have you ever engaged in a session with a Dom before tonight?”  
  
Castiel squinted, almost at the end of what he could handle as far as completely baffling conversations. “A what?”  
  
Dean’s face went tight. He nodded several times with short, sharp jerks of his head. Then he looked away, wiping at the lower half of his face.  
  
He looked like someone who was very quietly shitting himself.  
  
“What’s the matter?” Castiel asked, sitting up, honestly curious.  
  
Dean turned back, looked at his face, and said, “Jesus.” Then, “I’m not a prostitute, Cas. I’m a friend of your brother’s. And holy shit, he better run the next time I see him, after what he told me to get me here...well, it doesn’t matter what he told me, because I made a big fucking mistake.”  
  
Castiel jerked back a little, stung, but Dean already had his hands out placatingly.  
  
“I meant,” he said with care, “that your brother told me you had a big problem. When I got here and saw you I thought I knew what it was, but I am obviously two good benders away from dribbling into my soup as a full-time hobby. What I need to know now is your actual big problem.”  
  
Castiel hesitated, giving Dean a doubtful look. If Gabriel miraculously hadn’t told, Castiel would really rather spare himself the embarrassing tedium of explaining how a man his age could still manage to be a virgin.  
  
“Please, I need to know. I didn’t know everything before and I messed it up. It’s important I know everything now.” Dean looked utterly earnest, but he was making about as much sense as the rest of the evening had.  
  
“You know,” Castiel said, “this has been the most confusing night of my life.”  
  
Dean stared at him a second and then laughed, the sound sudden and wicked. It was a surprise; Dean had a boy’s laugh.  
  
“I bet it has.”  
  
Castiel eyed Dean’s expectant expression and sighed. “Gabriel was trying to help me lose my virginity. He said he’d hire someone if he needed to, so when I got home and I saw you there I thought-” Castiel stopped, mildly alarmed. Dean had gone white.  
  
“Are you okay?” he asked Dean.  
  
“You’re screwing with me. A virgin.”  
  
Castiel frowned unhappily down at the bed, near where he’d been laying not too long ago. “Well I was. I don’t know if that counts. What just happened, I mean.” He gestured awkwardly at the spot in question. “We didn’t even...really...” he trailed off, embarrassed, and unsure of how to respond to the stricken expression his words had slapped across Dean’s face.  
  
Dean held his hand out to stop him from continuing, anyway. With the other he covered his eyes, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as if he’d developed a sudden headache. “Jesus Christ,” Dean muttered to himself. “Jesus Christ.”  
  
Castiel was feeling increasingly awkward. “No,” he said weakly, “I’m Castiel.”  
  
That made Dean look at him, but for once it wasn’t pleasant. He looked abruptly miserable. “I am such an asshole. You ought to punch me in the face. And you don’t even know enough to be pissed off at me.”  
  
Castiel eyed him like he’d suddenly grown antlers.  
  
Dean let out a breath of disbelieving laughter. “I came in here like a pro, and you just rolled with it. Man, you have got to be one of the toughest, most stable sons of bitches I’ve ever met in my life.”  
  
That was a compliment that bothered him, just in the laughable untruth of it. Castiel shut his eyes. “No,” he said, his voice suddenly tight.  
  
Dean was silent for a second. “Can I touch you?” he asked, his voice careful. Polite. As if he expected and thought Castiel had every right to tell him not to ever lay another finger on him ever again.  
  
Castiel opened his eyes and stared at Dean. “Are you _joking_?” he asked with naked longing. It was the strangest, most disappointing part of the night, trying to figure out why the hell Dean wouldn’t touch him. And now he was asking?  
  
“Shit,” Dean said, as if he’d just realized something. “Come here.”  
  
Castiel scooted close, and to his surprise, Dean immediately scooped him up into a tight hug, pulling him right in. Their legs were tangled together. Dean’s chest was very warm where Castiel’s right arm had gotten kind of squished between them. After taking a second to observe all this, Castiel rested his cheek against Dean’s shoulder and relaxed with a sigh. It felt very nice. After a little while, Dean moved them back a bit so he could lean up against Castiel’s headboard. Castiel found himself kind of silently urged to curl up against Dean. When he obliged, Dean started to stroke his hair. Then it felt wonderful.  
  
Castiel actually caught himself beginning to doze off, before he remembered he needed to know something important first. He looked up.  
  
“You won’t tell anyone,” he said, “what happened.“ Dean frowned at him.  
  
Castiel sat up, his chest tightening like it had when he’d thought he had been left tied up for his brother to find. Or worse, Anna. “They can’t find out,” he insisted, agitated. Dean’s expression had gone cold, and it scared him a little.  
  
“And just what terrible thing would happen if they did?” he asked softly.  
  
Castiel froze, horrified.  
  
Dean grabbed his shoulders quickly. “Easy. Just hypothetically, all right? How do you think the world is going to end if anyone finds out what you like? Why would anyone even care?”  
  
Castiel pressed his lips together tightly and shook his head.  
  
“Nobody cares, man,” Dean said softly.  
  
Castiel gave him a desperate look. “They would know, they would know that I liked it when-” he cut himself off, mortified.  
  
Dean was silent for a minute. When he finally spoke, his voice was thoughtful and without judgement. “Cas, did something happen to you? Did you get busted up?”  
  
Castiel looked up. The look in Dean’s eyes was a shock. It was as if he understood Castiel completely. If Dean knew, and he didn’t mind...  
  
“Yes.” Cas kept staring into Dean’s eyes. Dean didn’t look away.  
  
“A person did it?” Dean’s voice was so casual, as if he was just getting the details right. Cas nodded slowly.  
  
“I didn’t want to get hurt. I didn’t want things to go that far,” Cas said, a little surprised he was still talking.  
  
“But you didn’t completely hate it either,” Dean replied. “It was kind of a relief, yeah?”  
  
“How do you do that?” Castiel demanded.  
  
Dean raised his eyebrows, having the audacity to look amused. “Relax. Its kind of in my job description.”  
  
Castiel frowned, and started to open his mouth.  
  
Dean let out a sharp, exasperated breath. “Dude, I swear if you call me a prostitute again, I really will leave.”  
  
Castiel shut his mouth so quickly his teeth clicked.  
  
Dean gave him a strange look, and then shook his head and muttered something about hopeless cases and pretty faces.  
  
He held out his hands. “Look. Suppose you knew what you liked. And you wanted that feeling. That relief. But you didn’t want to get hurt. You wouldn’t be the only person out there who feels that way. What we did tonight was safe. No one got hurt. But it still felt dangerous enough that it was good. If you wanted, sometime you could call me, or someone like me-”  
  
“You,” Castiel said sharply, with a pang.  
  
Slowly, like the sun coming out on a cloudy day, Dean smiled at him. “Me, then,” he said. Dean looked away from Castiel and smiled down at his hands for a minute. Then he blinked and seemed to try and grab his train of thought again.  
  
“Anyway, there’s enough people that like this that some people can do this for a living, so you definitely shouldn’t feel bad about it.”  
  
Castiel suddenly felt like someone who had been sitting in front of a scattered puzzle and been handed the one missing piece that brought everything together. He suddenly felt small and stupid.  
  
“You do this for a living,” Castiel said. Dean did this with other people. Dean had clients. Clients that he tied up and spoke to and touched while they came. Castiel shoved down a sense of crushing disappointment and hurt. “You want me to pay to see you again.”  
  
Dean’s eyes opened wide. “That’s not what I meant.” Dean flinched a little. “Actually, I’m kind of still in training. I’m not actually supposed to go off on my own- this was just a friend thing for Gabriel. But even if the Ladies forgave me for that, believe me,” he gave Castiel an earnest look, “if they found out what I’ve been doing here with you, during a session, they’d put me out on my ass.”  
  
Castiel gave him a tentatively hopeful look. “Yeah?”  
  
Dean made an a faint, exasperated sound. “You know, I thought for a minute there that you wanted me to kiss you. Was I way off base, or do you want me to give it a try?”  
  
Castiel grabbed his white shirt and kissed him.  
  
It wasn’t all that great. Castiel hadn’t gotten all that many opportunities to practice. Dean huffed out a breath of laughter, warm over Castiel’s cheek. Then Dean nudged his head to the side, slotting their mouths more comfortably together, and started sucking lightly on Castiel’s lower lip, urging him to relax his mouth a little. Little adjustments, and suddenly kissing Dean was good, it was so good, it was taking all of his concentration in just how far to open his mouth and where to lick and-  
  
Dean bit his upper lip, tugging it between his teeth lightly. Castiel moaned into Dean’s mouth. Dean slid his hand up the back of Castiel’s neck and kissed him back onto the bed.  
  
That was even better, because Dean was pinning him down and it trapped Castiel’s growing erection up against Dean’s hip. Dean pushed against him a little and Castiel grabbed at Dean’s arms desperately, breaking the kiss, gasping for air.  
  
Dean pulled back just enough to look at him, his face flushed. “Winchester,” he said. His eyes were so green, they didn’t look real.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Dean Winchester.”  
  
Castiel nodded and licked his lips, for the first time all evening actually able to keep up with what was going on. He didn’t figure clients would get last names, or Dean would have given him one when he first introduced himself. Dean’s eyes zeroed in on his mouth, which made him feel pretty good.  
  
“Are you going to get in trouble?” Castiel asked.  
  
Dean’s mouth curled in a smile. “Fuck it. I can have a personal life.”  
  
Castiel kissed him again, and this time it was wonderful from the first moment. Dean trailed his mouth down along the edge of Castiel’s jaw, their stubble scraping together, and bit the skin there.  
  
“What do you want me to do?” he asked, running his hand down Castiel’s bare chest. Dean’s hand stopped at Castiel’s belt buckle, lingered over it without opening it.  
  
“Uh,” Castiel gasped, thoughts running out of his head inconveniently. “I don’t know.”  
  
“Hmm.” Dean stretched himself over Castiel, nudging his way in between Castiel’s thighs. Then he pressed close, the silky fabric of his dress slacks sliding over Castiel’s, Dean’s erection almost dragging right over his own. Castiel hissed and thrust up. Dean slipped his arm down between them and cupped Castiel in his hand, his fingers pressing warm against fabric.  
  
It sent a jolt of absolute sweetness that Castiel wasn’t prepared for. He froze, choking on it.  
  
“You trust me?” Dean asked.  
  
Finding it a little difficult to concentrate, Castiel somehow managed a nod. He’d had Castiel tied, and he hadn’t left. That meant everything.  
  
Dean grinned at him, the smile lighting his face and making him look very young. Then he raised his eyebrows and his expression turned anticipatory. “I’m going to use my mouth,” he said, stroking Castiel’s erection lightly with his hand so that there could be no misunderstanding.  
  
Dean lowered his voice. “I might bite your thighs.”  
  
Castiel made a strangled sound.  
  
Dean leaned back a little. “If I asked you to put your hands on the bed and not move them until I said so, no matter what happens, do you think you would like that?”  
  
There was such a sudden rush of blood and sensation to his groin, he almost felt like someone had grabbed his cock and yanked on it. He made a fist and hit the bed with it, abruptly concerned with nothing else except not coming before ever even getting touched.  
  
After a long, embarrassing moment, Castiel let out a breath through his teeth and glared up at Dean. “You can’t just say things like that.”  
  
Dean was smirking. “I can. But I get it, kind of a hair trigger, hmm? I’ll keep that in mind.”  
  
It was continually baffling. Castiel wondered if there was anything embarrassing about sex that actually embarrassed Dean, or if he was actually unruffled by everything.  
  
Dean sat back until he was kneeling between Castiel’s thighs, letting his hands slide down Castiel’s arms until they caught on his wrists. Dean caught Castiel’s eye, deliberately pressed Castiel’s wrists into the blankets.  
  
“Keep them there,” Dean said firmly.  
  
His eyes huge, Castiel nodded. He spread his hands flat.  
  
Dean gave him a warm look and stroked a hand across Castiel’s bare stomach. “Good boy.”  
  
Cas made a sound that might, he realized later, have sounded slightly hysterical. He thrust his hips up into air.  
  
Dean paused, eyes very bright, and Cas gave him a desperate look.  
  
“Please,” he hissed.  
  
Dean’s mouth dropped open slightly. A moment later he had Castiel’s slacks unzipped and had hooked his fingertips into the waistband of Castiel’s underwear. They were still damp and sticking to him a little from when he’d come all over himself. Seeming as uncaring about this as Dean had been about every other horribly embarrassing thing, Dean ignored the mess and pulled everything down over Castiel’s ass, letting the cloth catch on his thighs.  
  
Then Dean dipped his head over Castiel’s erection. His breath spread warm over Castiel’s skin and then it was all wet, tight heat, and his _tongue_ , and there was no possible way, he couldn’t possibly-  
  
Dean pulled back with an obscene, wet sound and Castiel groaned in disappointment. Castiel went to clutch at his own hair and almost jumped off the bed when Dean bit him, clamping onto the muscle of his thigh right through his slacks.  
  
Dean pulled back, looking stern. “On the bed,” he reminded.  
  
Castiel quickly complied, replacing his hands, oddly regretful. His thigh was aching a little. He thought that if he hadn’t been surprised by it, or if Dean had done it on bare skin instead of through cloth, he might have been able to come just from being bitten. He wondered if Dean knew, and had done it that way on purpose.  
  
Dean lowered his head again, but this time, almost as if he was chastising Castiel for misbehaving, Dean’s mouth barely touched him. He licked and sucked at him in the gentlest, lightest, most maddening way imaginable. At times, almost as if he could tell when Castiel was getting close, he stopped and just breathed over him.  
  
Castiel wanted to scream. Or beg. Or both. He lifted his head, looking down at Dean licking at him delicately, ready to try.  
  
Castiel stopped, his mouth going slack. Dean was masturbating. Castiel could see where Dean had pulled himself out of his slacks and was stroking himself one-handed.  
  
Castiel made a choked, disbelieving sound.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes up, his own cock in his hand, Castiel’s erection in his mouth, and somehow managed to look smug.  
  
“You,” Castiel managed. He wanted to touch Dean like he wanted to breathe air. But...hands on the bed. He curled his fingers, making fists in the blanket.  
  
Dean dipped his head and sucked hard. Castiel came suddenly with a gasp, startled by the force of his own body. He had masturbated on his own before, but coming with someone else was so different. It was so much more sharp and raw. Dean kept sucking him all the way through, it was amazing; every time he thought he must be done he shivered and there was more to it.  
  
Dean finally pulled back, sweaty and flushed, still erect. Castiel was slack with pleasure and exhaustion and still panting, but he made an effort to focus.  
  
He looked down at Dean’s erection. “Can I touch?” he asked.  
  
Dean made a noise low in his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s good. You can,” he had to stop and clear his throat, “move your hands.”  
  
Dean settled down next to him on the bed. Carefully, Castiel took his erection in his hand. It was thicker than his own, and had a slight curve upward. Castiel started to stroke, firm and fast, how he liked it when he touched himself. Dean groaned, pressing close to him. Castiel could feel him get harder in his hand, could guess that Dean was close.  
  
“You’re so good,” Dean breathed.  
  
Cas kissed him like it was all he ever wanted to do. Dean made a desperate sound into his mouth and came all over Cas’ fingers.  
  
Dean slumped against the bed at Cas’ side, half resting against Cas’ shoulder. For a moment, everything was warm and perfect. Cas felt vaguely like he was actually melting into the bed. He couldn’t remember when he’d been this relaxed. Never, maybe.  
  
Then Dean moved, scooting up on the pillows. That was a shame.  
  
“All right?” Dean asked, sounding tired. “That was good?” Cas felt Dean’s hand ruffling through his hair, and sighed.  
  
“Good,” Cas mumbled, turning his head vaguely in Dean’s direction. “Everything’s good.”  
  
  
\-------------------  
Dean was leaving the next morning when Gabriel finally decided to show up. He’d always had the worst timing.  
  
Dean was actually at the open door, leaning in for a kiss when Castiel heard Gabriel yelp in shock from the landing. Dean froze. Castiel shut his eyes and sighed.  
  
“I can’t promise he’ll live,” Dean said.  
  
Castiel poked his head out into the hallway. Gabriel, looking thunderstruck, pointed at him dramatically as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.  
  
“You closed the deal!” he blurted.  
  
Castiel ducked back inside. “Anna’s always been my favorite, anyway.”  
  
Dean gave him a swift kiss on the lips.  
  
“I am a genius, even you have to admit-” Gabriel continued, practically bubbling over, his voice getting closer as he dashed up the stairs.  
  
Castiel caught Dean’s arm, silently mouthed ‘You won’t tell?’  
  
Dean gave him a very clear ‘oh wow fuck you’ face.  
  
Castiel raised both hands in immediate surrender.  
  
“Gabriel,” Dean said sharply, stepping into the hall, bag in hand. “Buddy.” He reached out as Gabriel reached him and slung an arm around his shoulders, wrenching him in close. “I need a word.”  
  
“Are you kidding?” Gabriel sputtered, trying to shrug him off and failing, glancing over at Castiel. “I want to get the full story here.”  
  
“Why don’t you start us off, with how you think I’m a prostitute,” Dean said, like he’d rather start the story with a fistfight.  
  
Gabriel stopped dead at Dean’s tone of voice, looking honestly surprised for a second. He glanced over at Castiel, a question on his face.  
  
Slowly, Castiel shook his head.  
  
“Ooooh,” Gabriel said, and made a face. “That’s embarrassing.”  
  
“To start. Come on, we need to talk about your impulse control problems. And learning how to listen.” Dean gave him a relatively gentle shove down the stairs. Then he turned and gave Castiel a wink.  
  
“You don’t work the weekend?” Dean said, sounding hopeful.  
  
He did. He didn’t go in, but he always worked. “No. I mean, no.”  
  
Dean grinned, bright and boyish. “I’ll see you.”  
  
Castiel smiled back, feeling slightly stupid. His brother was muttering on the staircase. Dean jogged down to join him, and Castiel could hear Gabriel start griping.  
  
“Okay, whatever else you’re pissed about, I can see I did good, so you can kiss it...”


End file.
